The Man with the Can Plan

There's this fella I've been seeing lately.  He's delightfully bald, in his 60s or early 70s, very tan, has a most beautiful storytelling face, and is in great shape.  He's always shirtless when I encounter him, that's how I know.  I see him running and he's consistently carrying bags...and the number of bags increases when I pass him for the second time in a day.  It's not that I'm fast and lap him or anything, it's that I turn around and double back when I'm out riding my bike.

Anyway, one day one of his bags was kind of transparent and I could finally see what was in there.  Lots and lots of aluminum cans.  And then I got to wondering.  Is he doing it just to clean up?  Is he collecting them so he can make a littel money?  Does he give the cans to a homeless person so they can get a little money?

I think I need to stop and introduce myself to this interesting fella...I want to hear his story.

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Warrior Princess

If you know me, you likely know I'm fart phobic (click here for proof)...particularly when it comes to yoga.  Seriously, it's on my "won't do" list.  But last night I conquered my fears.  I downward dogged, I child posed, I warriored, I saluted the sun...and I got through it with nary an issue.  Oh, and did I mention that they also had us in partners, actually touching strangers?!?!  Well, I got through that, too, without hyperventilating and passing out or anything.

Seriously feeling like that warrior I posed as.  Can't wait to do it again!

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Good Pickin's

The little guy and I were driving home this afternoon after dropping one of his friends off.  We were sitting at a red light just yammering on to each other, when...


Little guy:  "Hey, that's dad!"

Me:  "Oh, yeah."


Yup, Dave was at the intersection, too, ninety degrees away from us.


Little guy:  "I think he just picked his nose."


Now, I'm not saying he did or he didn't...but that's definitely a HUGE difference between my husband and myself.  Me?  I would never, ever, ever, EVER pick my nose whilst waiting at a red light.  In fast traffic with no cars beside me, yes, but where someone could get a good long gander at my picking activity, no way.  Dave?  Yup, he absolutely would (again, not saying that he did).

Honestly, I think I could use a bit of swaying toward Dave's way of thinking.


P.S.  Breaking information (post  areading of my blog late at night)...Dave was not picking his nose.  I repeat, Dave was not picking his nose.

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A Fishy Tale

I'm thinking I'm getting older...or more paranoid...certainly more neurotic.

You see, I've developed a couple of phobias over the past two months of riding my bike on the trails. (I love summer!!)

1. I am terrified of runners' loogies.  You know, like when they just spontaneously send one flying no matter that a sweet little bicyclist is coming from behind...right in the path of said loogie.  Ew!

2.  I am petrified of crazy monkey hand talkers.  And I can say that because I am one (see my blog post about my own hand talking).  As I pass people walking and talking I'm just certain that one of them is going to throw an arm out, surely telling their friend, "The fish was this big," and whack me in the face giving me a black eye or a bloody nose.  Seriously, it could happen!

Course I have to say how much I love that my imagination goes into overdrive on these deliciously long summer rides of mine....

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Racing Stripes

I was driving down the highway today and saw a sporty version of a car like mine.  You know, a Prius with racing stripes.


Me:  "My Prius should totally have racing stripes!"

Little guy:  "Your car doesn't deserve racing stripes, mom."

Me:  "But I want them!"


And with a pout on my face I drove us home.


Me:  "Let's look at it and imagine it with racing stripes."

Little guy:  "Look, mom, you have cat prints all over the hood of your car.  That's more you."

...pretty sure my kid just kind of called me a crazy cat lady.

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A Little Something to Chew On

I quit my gum chewing habit about a month ago.  (I blogged about it because I'm a total dork - Quitting Gum Blog).  No, I didn't fall off the wagon...I still have not indulged.  But what I did do, or almost do, was almost as bad.  You see, the day after I quit I found three partial packs of gum in my school backpack.  I used my self control and tucked them into one of my drawers.  Happened to be my underwear drawer, but that's beside the point, until later that is.

A few days ago I noticed that my big guy had particularly minty breath, a large number of gum wrapper trash all over his desk, and a couple of pack containers.  I thought nothing of it except, perhaps, "poor little gum addict."  Then yesterday I remembered those packs of gum.  I figured, "Hey, I'll be a nice mom and give them to my kids."  You know, just a surprise gift for being awesome and all.  Or if I were to take my own experience with gum into consideration I guess it was more of a, "I'll contribute to the corruption of my children."

Anyway, I went to my drawer, dug around, and only found one pack.  One!  Being the master detective that I am, of course I remembered seeing those packs on my big guy's desk.  I stomped in there carrying the single pack I had found.


Me:  "Did you take two packs of gum out of my drawer?"

Big guy:  "Yup."  The kid is a terrible liar, eye brows getting all twitchy and such.  Thankfully!  Suppose that's why he confessed so easily.

Me:  "YOU DUG THROUGH MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER?!?!"

Big guy:  "Nope, I just got your gum."

Me:  "Just so you know, girls don't like that."


And I left and went into my little guy's room and gave him the remaining pack of gum.

...I need to find a new hiding place!

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Dawgs!

I love to ride my bike!  Seriously, it's my favorite accessory.

This morning as I rode around the lake I came to the area where everyone is allowed to have their dogs off leash.  I love this part of the trail.  Happy running dogs are everywhere, running after thrown balls, jumping into the lake, panting full of straight-up bliss.  I always take it slow as I ride through...you know, the dogs own that part, I yield to them.  While most of the dogs are savvy, looking before they dart across the trail, this morning I encountered what must have been a three-ish month old puppy.  It zigged, it zagged, it crossed right in front of me, stopped and just looked..."What the heck is this human on?!?!"  It was the cutest little being ever and totally made my day.

And, like every time I get home from my morning bike rides, my dogs run out and give my bike an olfactory inspection, and then give me that look I both adore and expect...

"You've been with other dogs!"

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